100 Word Flash Fiction: Opus 1

MOCK the night if you will, but the moon will have its due. From human wail to baying howel, the ancient curse will work it’s terrible magic. Feet to paws and nails to claws, the cursed blood will boil. Swirling darkness reveals as if day to yellow-night eyes. Thirst for blood and hunger for flesh persuade its path. With strength of ten the beast of legend will prowel the forest with lunar bloodlust. No longer burdened by human will, the hellhound will claim the night with growling rage as the scent of human victims invade every pore from snout to TAIL